


Find Me In The Shadows

by UniverseOnHerShoulders



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, F/F, F/M, Slow Burn, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseOnHerShoulders/pseuds/UniverseOnHerShoulders
Summary: DC Sephy Walters has spent almost ten years working towards her ultimate career goal: going undercover with some of London’s finest. Now, handed a new identity and tasked with investigating the Arcadia gang and their mysterious leader M, she must put aside the life she once lived and throw herself into the role. Leaving behind her family, her past, and her covert affair with a senior officer, she finds herself alone and afraid, unsure of who to trust, and determined to unmask the shadowy M by any means necessary…
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald, Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 10





	Find Me In The Shadows

“Hi, darling.”

Sephy Walters smiled warmly at her father as he answered the door then stepped back to allow her over the threshold. The rich, delicious aroma of roast beef was wafting from the general direction of the kitchen, and as she shrugged off her coat and set her bag down, she inhaled deeply and appreciatively, her mouth already watering in anticipation.

“How have you been?” her dad asked, dithering somewhat awkwardly in the middle of the hallway as she draped her coat over the end of the bannisters. “Looking forward to…”

“Of course she’s looking forward to it,” a second voice interjected, and Sephy barely had time to breathe before the tall, gangly figure of her brother Mark had half-run, half-tripped down the stairs and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug and yet somehow extracting a hand for long enough to ruffle her hair. “Our very own James Bond.”

“I’m going undercover, Mark, but I’m not actually a sp-”

“Shut up, it’s a good analogy,” he hummed, releasing her briefly, only to sling one arm casually around her neck and beam at their father as the siblings stood side by side. “She’s going to be ace, isn’t she, Pops?”

“Don’t call me Pops,” their dad said with fond exasperation, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Of course she’s going to be ace, it’s just that-”

“Mum’s pissed off.”

Sephy felt her stomach drop at Mark’s words. She’d sensed a frisson of something uncomfortable and not-quite-right in her father’s manner as he’d asked about _that_ , and this was it; her mother’s – hopefully temporary – absence from her welcome party suddenly seemed glaring and symbolic. This was supposed to be a celebratory meal, after all; Sephy had striven for years to get to where she was now, only her mother…

“She’s not…” their dad blustered. “Mark, don’t say-”

“Dad, I’m thirty-three, I’m allowed to say ‘pissed.’”

“She is not _pissed off_ ,” he hesitated for a moment, his gaze darting between the two of them with tangible discomfort as he visibly struggled with what to say and how to say it. “She’s just… _worried_ about you, about your safety. She’s concerned you’re going to-”

“Dad, I’ve got how much experience?” Sephy asked patiently, but she still felt a hard knot of worry in her stomach. She’d always known that her mother was less than keen on her chosen career path, and yet she’d advanced along it with single-minded determination all the same, setting her sights on… well, on _this_. And yet now she was here, her mother’s opposition to the role remained – if anything, it had intensified – and while Sephy knew that it was ridiculous to crave parental approval of her life choices at her age, she still felt both resentful and disappointed by her mother’s overt lack of support. It might have been born out of concern for her wellbeing, but it also felt patronising and needless; it made Sephy feel as though her mother lacked faith in her, and it made family meals such as these all the more awkward.

“I know, love,” her dad sighed. “But she just… she worries.”

“I can more than handle whatever they throw at me.”

“I know, but…”

“I’m more than capable.”

“It’s just… you know, the emotional side of it all.”

“What?”

“Mumsy dearest is worried you mind end up being one of those officers who goes undercover and ends up having kids with and getting married to some whacko anarchist type. I’m not sure if she’s more worried about the fact she might not get to appreciate the grandkids, or about the whacko anarchism, to be honest. Probably both, in equal measure.”

“I’m not going to be having kids with anyone,” Sephy reminded her brother tartly, grimacing in horror at the mere prospect. “And I will not be surveilling any ‘whacko anarchists.’”

“Ooh, was that tantamount to telling me your first assignment?”

“No,” she punched him lightly in the upper arm, and then yelped as he twisted her into a headlock with remarkable ease and ignored her rather half-hearted attempts to get free. “Sod off.”

“God, you two are a bloody nightmare,” their father sighed, running one hand through what remained of his hair. “This is why she’s worried, you know – you act like children.”

“Mark isn’t going undercover,” Sephy noted, thumping her brother hard in the leg, and he released her with a yelp of complaint. “So don’t worry too much about that.”

“No, but _you_ are,” their mother’s voice noted, entering the hallway with an expression that was caught somewhere between disapproval and fondness. “Can you two go for longer than five minutes without beating each other up?”

“No.”

“No,” Mark concurred, then pointed at his sister childishly. “She started it.”

“I’m a police officer,” Sephy stuck her tongue out at him. “Would I start it?”

“Well, historically, police in this country do have a tendency to antagonise-” Mark began in a faux-sanctimonious tone, and Sephy threw a gentle punch in his general direction again, her fist stopping inches short of making contact with him, and he laughed. “You _did_ start it though.”

“Both of you, act your age,” the mother said affectionately, shaking her head in polite exasperation. “Now, come on through; lunch is nearly ready and you must be hungry.”

“I am,” Sephy agreed, following her mother into the warm, steam-filled kitchen and looking around at the organised chaos that reigned over the space. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Well,” her mother began, bending down to check the meat in the oven. With her back to Sephy, she said in a rush: “You could turn down the job.”

“Mum,” Sephy groaned, realising she’d walked into a trap. “We’ve been over this… I _can’t_ , and even if I _could_ , I don’t want to. This is what I want – it’s what I’ve always wanted. I don’t understand…”

“What if you get hurt?” her mother asked, her tone brittle as she slammed the oven door shut and turned back to face her daughter, folding her arms across her chest. “What if you get caught? What if you get in too deep and they find you in three months, floating down the Thames?”

“Mum, they won’t-”

“They won’t find you? Oh, good,” her mother laughed slightly hysterically, her eyes wide and wild with panic. “Oh, that’s much better. I’ll get to live with the knowledge that my daughter is maybe-dead.”

“Mum, please stop worrying,” Sephy implored gently. “I’ve had all the training; I’ve got plenty of experience; I know what I’m doing. I passed the psych tests; I passed my physical; I’m ready to learn my new identity… I’m going to be fine. I promise you; I’m going to be fine. They’re not going to let anything bad happen to me.”

“But they can’t control every second of what’s happening to you when you’re out there,” her mother continued, her voice breaking, and she turned her face away as though in embarrassment. “They can’t keep you safe every minute of every day.”

“And nor can you,” Sephy reminded her, crossing the room and pulling her mother into a hug, which she resisted for several seconds before melting into the embrace. “But I’ll be alright, Mum. I promise you, I will. When I can get word back to you or come home, I will.”

“River,” her father said from the doorway, his tone bright and bolstering. “Remember who taught her to fight.”

Her mother laughed shakily into her daughter’s shoulder, clinging to her extra-tightly for a few seconds.

“I did,” she said, her tone more sure than it had been seconds before. “Because the boys…”

“Kept picking on her,” her dad noted, then arched an eyebrow. “Because we’d called her Persephone.”

“And I felt guilty,” River recalled with a chuckle. “So…”

“Frankly, you should,” Mark noted, brushing past his father with a grin and snatching a glass of Coke off the side before taking a sip. “Bloody stupid name.”

“Shut up, _Marcus_ ,” Sephy shot back, and he scowled, setting his glass back down. “At least I’m named after a mythological figure, you just got a dusty old emperor.”

“Don’t get your mother started,” their father implored with a weary sigh. “I had no say in these things, or I’d have called you Sophie and Mark and that would’ve been the end of it.”

“Very uninspired, dear,” their mum shook her head fondly, releasing her hold on her daughter. “Still, you learnt to beat people up. Your father’s right.”

“It’s a bit more sophisticated than that now,” Sephy noted. “I mean, my self-defence instructor was quite fond of the idea of ‘just hit them in the nuts’, but there’s a bit more to it than that.”

“Such as?” Mark asked, and in a flash Sephy had grabbed hold of him and twisted his arm up behind his back until he yelled.

“You know,” their father noted with approval, looking over at his wife with a cheeky grin that she returned with an eye roll. “I think she’s going to be fine.”

“Urm, what about – ow, let _go_ ,” Mark whined, and Sephy relinquished her hold on him with a smirk. “Thank you. What about when they give her a gun?”

“Why do you assume they’ll give me a gun?” Sephy asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “They might not. They might just let me do my own thing.”

“Are they giving you a gun?!” her mother asked in panic, her composed demeanour evaporating in an instant.

“No!” Sephy reassured her stridently. “Can we please just… talk about something else? Anything else? This was meant to be a celebratory meal and I don’t feel very celebrated.”

“No, because Mum is too busy worrying you’re going to get your head kicked in by environmentalist types or anarchists or terrorists or… I dunno, nutters.”

“You have a very narrow understanding of surveillance, don’t you?” Sephy asked, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to get my head kicked in. Can we please just… I don’t know, talk about TV? Weather? The news? I don’t really care, just can we all please stop worrying?”

“Fine,” her father beamed wickedly at her. “So, what are everyone’s thoughts on Brexit?”

* * *

Sephy was halfway through the washing up when her mother’s arms settled around her waist from behind. She’d volunteered for the chore with the deliberate intention of wanting to be alone and away from the wonderful but slightly overwhelming attention of her family; now, she found herself alone with her mother, and she steeled herself for another lecture.

“I’m just worried,” her mother murmured, resting her chin on her daughter’s shoulder. “And it’s not because you’re a girl – I’d be just as worried about Mark, if not more so. You hear these horror stories and I don’t… I don’t want you to become another statistic. I don’t want to have to… have to…”

“Mum,” Sephy said gently, settling her soapy hands over her mother’s on her chest. “Honestly? I’m just as scared as you.”

“You… are?”

“Of course I am. I’ve never done this before; I’ve never done anything like this; and all the training in the world still can’t really fully prepare you for it. I don’t know yet where they’re placing me or who with, but I’m trying to flesh out a generic character to inhabit, in preparation. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I have to have faith that if something goes wrong, they’ll get me out of there and keep me safe.”

“That’s a lot of faith to have in your team.”

“They’ve never let me down yet.”

“Promise me you won’t get killed.”

“I promise I won’t get killed,” Sephy stuck her hands back into the warm washing-up water, flexing her fingers underneath the bubbles. “I know it’s going to be hard, but you need to trust me and you need to try not to worry, because it’ll just… eat you up inside.”

“Telling me not to worry is not going to stop me.”

“I know, but… Mark doesn’t seem worried. Dad doesn’t seem worried.”

“Oh, they are,” her mother said softly. “They’re putting on a better front, but your brother, especially…”

“Mum,” Sephy’s voice broke at the thought of her brother laying awake at night, consumed by his own anxiety. “This is what I want. It’s what I’ve been trained for. It’s what I’ve worked hard for. I can do it. I _have_ to do it. The team are counting on me.”

“I know,” her mother inhaled shakily. “I know, I just…”

“Wish it was a bit more desk-based?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m related to you and Dad,” Sephy quipped with a grin. “When have I ever been likely to take a desk job?”

“Mark managed to find one!”

“Mark’s a scientist, that’s not really desk-based, that’s… lab-based. Different horizontal surfaces – one’s a desk, one’s a workbench.”

“Pedant.”

“Well! He’s working with dangerous…”

“Equations.”

“Yeah, lethal,” Sephy grinned. “Really bloody dangerous, those numbers. And Mark’s functionally an idiot, so if he manages-”

“Your brother is not functionally an idiot,” her mother chided, letting go of her and leaning against the worktop beside the sink. “Don’t say that.”

“Mum, last week he blew up your toaster by sticking a fork in it.”

“Oh, is _that_ what happened to it?” she looked over at the brand-new toaster with bright curiosity. “I was wondering why we’d upgraded.”

“I’m going to be OK, Mum,” Sephy told her. “I promise you that.”

“Good,” her mother offered her a shaky smile. “I’m holding you to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I always get asked...  
> Sephy - 13  
> River - River  
> Mark - 11  
> Sephy's Dad - 5


End file.
